


with great power comes (a responsibility to call home)

by Ann1215



Series: skts fluff week 2021 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Atsumu is okay!, Banter, Fluff, Hero Miya Atsumu, M/M, Medical Student Sakusa Kiyoomi, Minor Injuries, Omi's just worried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29478096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ann1215/pseuds/Ann1215
Summary: Atsumu grins at his surly roommate-turned-boyfriend-and-the-love-of-his-life. “Omi-Omi! How, ah, how’s it goin’?”Sakusa Kiyoomi, all black curls, lanky limbs in a wool sweater and sweatpants, glares over his glasses.“I know that’s blood on your sweatshirt and not Fanta Grape,” he replies tersely.***Even superheroes need a little help patching up. Or, Atsumu is a friendly neighbourhood helper, and Sakusa thanks his past self for choosing to go pre-med.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: skts fluff week 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2160846
Comments: 19
Kudos: 280
Collections: SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021





	with great power comes (a responsibility to call home)

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3 of Sakuatsu Fluff Week  
> Tier 2: Hero/Villain AU

_ That… Could have gone better, _ Atsumu grimaces, nimbly skipping across balcony rails, gingerly pressing his left arm against his chest, taking care to not linger too long in front of open windows despite the late hour, until he comes to a stop on the fourth floor of a slightly run-down building. He glances around for a moment, before swinging himself to hook his legs through the window he’d left open at sundown hours ago, breathing a sigh of relief as he slips the rest of his body through it.

And then promptly chokes when he registers someone sitting cross-legged on the edge of his bed, staring right at him.

He nearly stumbles back out of the window, catching himself on the wall just in time, casually turning to lean against it as he grins at his surly roommate-turned-boyfriend-and-the-love-of-his-life. “Omi-Omi! How, ah, how’s it goin’?”

Sakusa Kiyoomi, all black curls, lanky limbs in a wool sweater and sweatpants, glares over his glasses.

“I  _ know _ that’s blood on your sweatshirt and not Fanta Grape,” he replies tersely, and Atsumu tenses when Sakusa unfolds his legs from underneath him, moving to stand upright. “And don’t ‘Omi-Omi’ me when you didn’t answer my text,” he continues with a growl, walking towards Atsumu.

“My phone died sometime around ten!” Atsumu quickly defends himself, putting both arms before remembering why that wasn’t such a great idea. “Argh, shouldn’t have done that,” he groans, instantly pulling back his left arm, cradling it with his right. “And ya said ya were gonna be in the library all night studyin’ so I didn’t wanna bother ya or anythin’.”

Sakusa sighs, coming to a stop in front of Atsumu. Even in the dim light, Atsumu can see the heavy bags underneath tired, worried eyes that rove all over Atsumu’s figure, a frown pulling the corners of his lips down. “I came home when you didn’t reply,” Sakusa shrugs, before meeting Atsumu’s gaze once more. “You’re hurt.”

Atsumu smiles up at him. “I did get poked by a knife, but that’s the worst o’ it, honestly.”

Dark eyes narrow at Atsumu’s words. “You used your arm to block the knife, like I keep telling you to stop doing,” Sakusa retorts. “It could have hit your radial artery and you could have bled out, idiot.”

“God, speak more medical terminology ta me, Omi-kun, ya know that shit turns me on,” Atsumu giggles in a mock swoon, lifting his uninjured arm to press against his forehead, but it’s yanked away in the next moment by Sakusa, who drags him with all of his sleep-deprived grace out into the hallway of their apartment, before pushing him into the bathroom, the fluorescent lighting making him flinch as his eyes adjust to it.

Both of them have been through this enough times that Atsumu merely jumps onto the counter beside the sink, humming tunelessly while Sakusa opens the medicine cabinet to their left, reaching for the first aid case, stocked with a lot more bandages, ointments and isopropyl alcohol than the average kit. Then Sakusa’s standing in front of him again, mask on, a pair of gloves in one hand.

“Ya look like a real doctor, Omi,” Atsumu whistles.

It doesn’t do anything to dissuade the frown still present on Sakusa’s face. “It’s a good thing I’m studying to be one, then. Take off your sweatshirt, Atsumu.”

Atsumu leers. “Aww, ya just gotta tell me if ya wanna have a look at all o’ this—”

“Show me the rest of your bruises.  _ Now.” _

_ Ah, I really shouldn’t push it tonight. _ It takes a while for Atsumu to figure out how to take off his sweatshirt and the t-shirt underneath; thankfully, the sweatshirt is zipped, but he has to grit his teeth as he takes his t-shirt off, mumbling curses underneath his breath until he’s topless from the waist up, bared to Sakusa’s eyes. He lets his boyfriend take everything in—the purple blotches across his chest and back from the punches he’d taken from the gang of robbers he’d intercepted on his last stop during patrol, the still-bleeding wound in his forearm, and his busted lip, visible now under the bright light.

It’s not a pretty sight, but it’s not the worst fight he’s ever been; Atsumu takes his wins when he can, and waits for Sakusa’s verdict.

The other man is silent for one long moment, and then he  _ tsks, _ like he’s reprimanding a child, or a badly behaved pet. “You really need to learn how to stop taking hits—what the hell are your abilities for if you can’t use them?”

“Omi,” Atsumu can’t help but whine, the ends of Sakusa’s name elongated into a pout. “‘S not there’s a huge known network for crime fighters,” he points out, watching Sakusa take out antibacterial soap, tweezers and a bottle of alcohol from the first aid kit. 

Sakusa hums, washing his hands. “The League is literally a group of superheroes,” he answers like clockwork. “You could ask them to train you.”

He could, but both Atsumu and Sakusa know that he’s not ready for that—approaching the League meant revealing Atsumu’s civilian identity to the authorities, and he’d no longer be a philosophy student in the nearby university by day, friendly neighbourhood vigilante by night. Whatever little freedom he has right now would have to be surrendered to them, and he’d have to work under the League’s supervision and as much as he thinks they’re a bunch of good people, he’s also not keen on having surveillance on him on a 24/7 basis.

“Maybe after I graduate,” Atsumu replies at last, like he always does, and holds out his injured arm when Sakusa motions for it with gloved hands. “Ack, gentler, Omi! Wonder what they say about yer bedside manner.”

There’s a pause. “They said I’ve improved,” Sakusa says with a huff, turning Atsumu’s forearm around as he rinses the wound. The corners of Atsumu’s lips curl up, heart in his throat as he takes in the concentrated furrow in Sakusa’s brows while he tends to Atsumu’s arm.

“The cut’s not too deep, so I won’t have to stitch you up this time at least,” Sakusa mutters, fiddling with his glasses. “How did you get this anyway?”

That catches Atsumu’s attention, and he perks up in his seat, mindful of Sakusa’s hold on him. “Oh! I was patrollin’ around the Midtown area in Roppongi when I literally walked around the corner into a group of guys mid-robbery,” Atsumu recalls, “They were tryin’ to smash open some ATMs so I walked up to ‘em and just asked what they were up to.”

A sigh leaves Sakusa’s lips. “Your 40/20 vision didn’t tell you that?”

“I just wanted ta give ‘em a chance ta explain themselves! So anyways, they got spooked, and uh, turns out one o’ them was a lightweight boxing champ, hence the bruises. But he didn’t have the knife, someone else did and I woulda used my backpack but I had to stow that away somewhere else fer a bit…” He continues recounting the other parts of his patrol, buoyed along by Sakusa’s hums every time he pauses, the adrenaline finally leaving him to deal with the painful aftermath.

Once the wound’s deemed clean enough, Sakusa goes in with the tweezers next, and Atsumu takes large, deep breaths in between his words, wincing every now and then at the pull of skin. Every single flinch is accompanied by Sakusa’s other hand rubbing Atsumu’s knee, thumb stroking over his thigh.

Finally, Sakusa wipes down his forearm, rubbing ointment along the edges of the wound before placing a few butterfly bandages to seal it. He takes another roll of dressing, wrapping them around Atsumu’s forearm with the touch of an expert used to dealing with all manners of scrapes. “I know you heal fast, but try not to jostle it too much,” Sakusa warns, finally straightening up to look at Atsumu. “Your patrol sounded pretty… Uneventful, for the most part.”

Atsumu nods, but jolts when he’s reminded of something, reaching for the sweatshirt that he’d discarded earlier. “Mmhmm, but I did get ya this,” he says, rummaging through the pockets until he finds it, a triumphant “ahah!” escaping him when he pulls out the pack of  _ umeboshi _ candy and holds it out to Sakusa. “‘S kinda squashed though, sorry about that.”

The look on Sakusa’s face is inscrutable to most under the mask, but Atsumu’s had nearly two years of being his roommate and six months of them sleeping in the same bed and waking up next to each other to know that there is a complicated mix of emotions playing on his boyfriend’s expression right now. 

He takes the pack of candy, putting it carefully on top of the first aid kit.

And then he pulls down his mask, eyes flicking back to meet Atsumu’s for a heavy second, until he breaks the eye contact to bend down and press his lips against the biggest bruise on Atsumu’s skin, a dark purple-red patch on his right shoulder. The touch of his mouth spreads searing warmth across every part of Atsumu’s body, and no matter how many times Sakusa does this, it is still overwhelming in the tenderness Sakusa relentlessly shows him, no matter how many times Atsumu comes to him black and blue with a bloody smile. He curls his fingers into the fabric of his pants as Sakusa continues to kiss every single bruise he can find on Atsumu’s body, until he’s kissing the edge of Atsumu’s jaw, hands clutching Atsumu’s waist in a tight grip.

Both of them are breathing a little heavily, and Atsumu buries his face in Sakusa’s curls, inhaling the sweet scent of his shampoo, lifting up his uninjured arm to stroke the back of Sakusa’s neck in the most soothing manner he knows.

The spell is finally broken when Sakusa pulls back, and he brings a hand up to caress the edge of Atsumu’s cheek so tenderly, Atsumu could almost cry in their shared bathroom.

“The city doesn’t deserve you,” Sakusa whispers, but his gaze is filled with total understanding. “I can’t stop you from loving it, though. Just…” He trails off, looking away, and Atsumu gently chucks under his chin, bringing his gaze forward again.

“Just?” Atsumu prompts with a smile.

Sakusa bites his lip, but his words eventually come out, along with a pretty flush on the bridge of his nose. “Just continue to keep your promise, okay?” 

The promise Atsumu had made so many months ago, back when he was still Miya and sleeping a wall away from Sakusa, who’d accidentally found out about his night activities when he’d walked home into Atsumu trying to reset his own broken leg in the middle of their living room.

His smile widens, and then it’s his turn to brush his lips against the twin moles on Sakusa’s forehead, relishing in the other man’s sharp inhale.

“I gave you my word, didn’t I?” Atsumu reminds him lightly, gazing back down at this incredible man who’d stood by him with so much grace, strength and dignity that it constantly knocks him off of his feet with how much love he holds for one Sakusa Kiyoomi, constantly tired med student and his anchor in a city that begrudgingly accepts him as their part-time guardian.

“I’ll always come back home to you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> why yes I did model atsumu after my boy parker


End file.
